


Forecast

by ToxicPineapple



Series: Saimota Week 2020 [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (A lot of these take place in the rain), (Technically the second meeting), (sweats), Alternate Universe - No Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Conversations, Developing Friendship, First Meetings, Fluff, Kaito is a handsome motherfucker, M/M, Rain, Saimota Week, Saimota Week 2020, angst if you squint, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: The door to the building open and shut off on Shuichi’s right, so he turned his head, raising his eyebrows slightly when he met the warm lilac eyes of a student his age. He recognised the guy, a second year, like him, though they weren’t in the same class. In fact they’d spoken maybe once, and that was out of necessity back during the sports festival in June. Still, Shuichi thought he knew the guy’s name. He had a distinctive face, an impressive amount of purple facial hair and hair to match, styled with gel into a hairdo that Shuichi thought was for sure a dress code violation.Also, he was handsome-- like, dramatically, with high, gaunt cheek bones and striking eyes, but Shuichi didn’t want to think about that with someone who was hardly an acquaintance.---Shuichi comes unprepared for the weather and chats with someone he barely knows.---Saimota week day one: Trust/Jacket
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Saimota Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750948
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81





	Forecast

**Author's Note:**

> written for saimota week day one! the prompt i used was jacket

It was that time of autumn-- a time so early on in the season that it was impossible for Shuichi to tell, one way or the other, what the weather was going to be like on any given day. Usually that wouldn’t be a problem, considering that Shuichi had the good fortune to be born in a time period where there were such things as weather forecasts to give him a sneak preview at what the day had in store for him. But that morning he slept in past his alarm and only woke up when he uncle rapped on his door, yelling something that sounded like,  _ I know it’s only a half-day, but I still think that you should go,  _ and a glance at the digital clock on his nightstand told him that if he didn’t haul ass, he was going to be late.

His school uniform had spent the night crumpled at the foot of his bed but there was no helping it. The spare was still in the wash. Shuichi hardly even had time to brush his teeth properly out the door, forget killing any time on his cell phone. The weather seemed innocent as he rushed out to catch the bus, the sky an opaque grey that was bright enough not to hint at rain, and it was chilly but the fuzzy grey sweater (a v-neck, and also the kind his school allowed, on Saturdays) he grabbed from his closet was thick enough to keep him well insulated. It sucked that he didn’t have good pockets, though. Usually he kept a pair of gloves in his book bag, even during the warmer months, just because his hands always got so cold, but he must have left them on the table by the door or something in his hurry out, because they weren’t on him.

It was alright. He would survive for a day.

Around mid-morning, it started raining, which again was to be expected during autumn, but it wasn’t coming down too hard, so Shuichi didn’t see it as a big deal. It wasn’t raining too hard, either; he couldn’t even hear the droplets pattering on the glass, only knew there was rain to begin with because he was gazing out the window with his chin propped up on his hand, watching small bits of water race down to the bottom. There was something enthralling about rain, such that it was almost difficult to focus in class with the raindrops providing a more hypnotising form of entertainment, but Shuichi tried to focus. It wasn’t like they covered anything profoundly important on Saturdays but he still valued his education. And anyway, it was rude to space off in class.

By one in the afternoon, when Shuichi got off cleaning duty, the rain was coming down outside in sheets. He stood for a moment under the awning in front of the entrance to his school before sighing and taking out his phone. Calling his uncle seemed downright unreasonable but his aunt had Saturdays off from work. He didn’t want to bother her, but the thought of taking public transit home in this weather felt unbearable, and he was grossly unprepared for it.

Mei picked up on the third ring.  _ “Shuichi? Everything alright?” _

“Ah, yes,” he felt awkward, being so formal with Mei when he’d lived with her for so many years-- for the most part he’d grown out of it, that compulsive formality, but when he was asking for a favour it sort of crept back into his voice. His uncle would call that a tell. Shuichi wasn’t sure if Mei had picked up on it, though. “Everything is okay. I was just calling to see if you could give me a ride home from school.”

_ “Mm. Yeah, it is raining pretty hard.”  _ Shuichi heard rustling in the background, as though Mei was drawing the curtain by her desk and leaning over to peer out the window. Not that it was necessary; her reflection was something of an understatement. The rain was coming down so hard and so fast Shuichi could hear the patter of raindrops from her window through the phone.  _ “I’ll come grab you. Might take a minute, though, traffic’s always so bad when it rains.” _

“Thank you,” Shuichi said quietly. He added, “Take your time,” and heard Mei chuckling on the other end before she ended the call. With that Shuichi tucked his cell phone into the one zipper pocket in his book bag, hoping desperately that the slick leather exterior of the bag would keep his phone dry. Rain was fresh water, and they had plenty of rice at home, but still. If possible he’d like to avoid a situation where he would have to do any emergency revivals.

To make things easier for Mei as far as picking him up, Shuichi braved a few moments under the deluge, his book bag thrown tenuously over his hair as a feeble kind of protection, and jogged over to a spot that would be within clear sight of the street, where Mei’s car would drive in. He took refuge under one of the tall cherry blossoms that was planted on the block. Of course, it wasn’t flowering anymore (and wouldn’t until spring) but the limbs were long and thick enough that they provided a rudimentary shelter of sorts. Admittedly his sweater was already beginning to feel gross and heavy with the water that soaked through it and into his button down (wool, on a rainy day? Was he out of his mind) and his arms were immediately sore from holding up the bag for so long, but he would manage.

It was his fault for staying up so late the night before, that he didn’t have any time leaving the house to check the weather forecast. Or at least grab a rain coat, which felt the logical decision at any rate, because he had no way of predicting the weather but it was autumn and it was always good to be prepared. Sometimes Shuichi stopped by his uncle’s detective agency to help out with a case or two (albeit not often, since he had a lot of homework and detective work was stressful) and he often felt like that was where all his practical thinking went. All other times he was just… going through it. And accepting the outcome of any mistakes.

The door to the building open and shut off on Shuichi’s right, so he turned his head, raising his eyebrows slightly when he met the warm lilac eyes of a student his age. He recognised the guy, a second year, like him, though they weren’t in the same class. In fact they’d spoken maybe once, and that was out of necessity back during the sports festival in June. Still, Shuichi thought he knew the guy’s name. He had a distinctive face, an impressive amount of purple facial hair and hair to match, styled with gel into a hairdo that Shuichi thought was for sure a dress code violation.

Also, he was handsome-- like, dramatically, with high, gaunt cheek bones and striking eyes, but Shuichi didn’t want to think about that with someone who was hardly an acquaintance. The time they spoke they exchanged names and a laugh about one of their teachers, who they both had but during different times, and because that conversation was pleasant Shuichi remembered it, right down to the minor details, like the fact that this boy’s name was--

“Momota-kun, right?” Shuichi spoke up, startling the both of them. Though Momota had met his eyes he hadn’t said anything yet, and when Shuichi did so first he jumped, as though this was an unexpected outcome. To be fair, Shuichi wasn’t really expecting himself to break the silence first either, so he couldn’t blame Momota for his surprise. For the life of him he couldn’t remember Momota’s given name, if he had even been told it in the first place, but it wasn’t a big deal. Shuichi’s anxiety was such that the only people he could call by their given names were his aunt and uncle, on very rare occasions, and his uncle’s pet goldfish.

“Yeah,” Momota composed himself pretty quickly, a grin spreading across his face. He had a large, poofy mauve coat on. Actually, it was a parka, and the outside didn’t look waterproof, which was perhaps why he hadn’t yet stepped out from underneath the awning. He did then, though, and the rain wasted no time in soaking his hair, which, under the weight of the moisture, began to droop. Shuichi had to admit, quietly and to himself, that he still looked handsome like that, his hair half-deflated and drops of water running down his face. “And you’re, uh…”

“Saihara,” Shuichi smiled without thinking much about it, realising that Momota probably didn’t say anything just now because he didn’t remember Shuichi’s name. It was somewhat endearing, that he’d stand there in silence like a deer caught in headlights while he tried to remember what somebody was called. Also, it gave Shuichi the opportunity to speak first, which he rarely did, so he had to be at least a little bit grateful. “Uhm, Shuichi Saihara, but Saihara is my family name.”

“I remember,” said Momota, and that grin of his was infectious. It stretched across his features in a brilliantly flattering way, and when he stopped walking they were hardly a foot apart, Momota’s eyes crinkling with his smile and the water from his hair dripping in front of his eyes. He smelled like body spray, something aggressively middle school, and old spice deodorant-- the same kind Shuichi’s uncle used, actually, though that really wasn’t a comparison he wanted to make, not when it was someone he was so blatantly attracted to, so he stopped that train of thought in its tracks. “We met at the fair before summer vacation, right?” He hummed. “I don’t think your ears were pierced back then.”

Shuichi was the kind of person who, when he was embarrassed, tended to flush. Like, from head to toe sort of thing. There was an odd heat in the tips of his ears and spreading across his shoulders that couldn’t be owed to anything other than the remark. He looked away. Like, not because he didn’t like looking into Momota’s eyes or anything, that exquisite, galaxy-like hue-- more just because the weight of his gaze was a bit too much for Shuichi to cope with in the moment. Also, he was lighting up like a traffic light. “N-No, I had it done last month,” he admitted, reaching up with the hand that wasn’t holding his book bag to rub one of his ears. “Uhm, I’m still not quite used to it.”

“It looks good,” Momota praised. Shuichi felt his throat drying out, which provided a sharp contrast to the wet concrete beneath his shoes. He was thinking about the concrete because that’s where his eyes went next, affixing first to a crack in the sidewalk but then to Momota’s shoes. They didn’t have laces. It was definitely  _ weird  _ staring at your acquaintance’s shoes, though, so he looked back up again after a moment. “Are you cold, man?”

“Huh?” The question felt kind of out of the blue, like, there were a number of questions that could’ve been expected just now (though admittedly Shuichi hadn’t been consciously trying to predicted the next topic that Momota would jump to, enthralled as he was by the other’s lack of shoelaces) and that didn’t make the list, not even slightly. Still, he saw no real reason to lie. “S-Sort of, I mean, it could be a lot colder,” he chuckled faintly, deciding that holding up his book bag was becoming more of a hinderance-- via arm cramps-- than a help-- via keeping a single spot on the crown of his head safe from water-- so he lowered his arm to his side, the hand of the other clasping around his neck. “But I didn’t really prepare for the weather today.”

_ Or read the forecast, _ he wanted to add, but that felt like too much information. Plus, if he could get out of this interaction without needlessly embarrassing or exposing himself, then he was going to try his darndest. “No kidding,” Momota chuckled, and Shuichi would have felt embarrassed, but the smile on Momota’s face was… well, it wasn’t demeaning. It was hard to put a word to the actual  _ expression  _ he was wearing but Shuichi didn’t feel patronised. He allowed for a good natured smile of his own, gazing mournfully down at his poor, wool sweater.

“I chose it without thinking,” he remarked, a tad moodily. “I was in a rush to leave the house this morning so I just grabbed something. It’s a v-neck, so it shows the tie, as per the dress code,” was it tactful to talk about the dress code with someone who was clearly violating it? Shuichi was sort of rambling, “but it isn’t the best choice for autumn. Or for a top layer, actually. I think this would do best in the middle of winter, tucked underneath a big coat, but I lack proper planning skills in the best of…”

Shuichi trailed off. He didn’t mean to, it was just, Momota slipped his jacket off his own shoulders and then swung it over Shuichi’s, doing the top button so that it would stay on without him having to ask Shuichi for any maneuvering.

And, well, like,  _ wow.  _ “M-Momota-kun,” Shuichi stammered. Again with the flushing thing; his heart was doing an annoying trot in his chest and his face was  _ burning,  _ like full on. From the way that Momota smiled, his eyes sparkling, it was evident that he either didn’t notice the flush, or found it endearing. Neither possibility gave Shuichi any reason to calm down. “I don’t-- I can’t--”

“Forget it, man,” dismissed Momota, waving a hand. “You were shaking like a leaf. Maybe you oughta hit the gym more, y’know? Get some muscle so you’ll stay warmer.” He punctuated the jab with a light poke to Shuichi’s upper arm, but it didn’t feel all that antagonistic. To the contrary, in fact. Shuichi’s ears were tempted to burn off his head. “The cold doesn’t even bother me,” he added, though from the smile on his face you’d think that that was true of all things, as a general rule. Beneath his parka Momota was wearing the regular uniform, but his tie was loose and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. Shuichi had to look away from that, because his face was already dangerously close to becoming a stop sign with the levels of  _ red  _ it was attempting to achieve in that moment.

“Th-- Uhm, thank you,” Shuichi managed, weakly, and it wasn’t because he didn’t mean the apology but rather because he felt sort of weak in the knees, or maybe lightheaded. As subtly as possible he rested his back against the tree behind him, hoping that it would support his weight properly and he wouldn’t collapse to the ground on the spot. Those would be levels of humiliation Shuichi wasn’t sure he was capable of.

“Don’t sweat it, Shuichi!” Momota was grinning again, another brilliant flash of teeth, but Shuichi barely registered that over the use of his given name. Man, boundaries really weren’t a thing to this guy, were they? (Not that he was complaining, even a little bit.) It was the sort of thing Shuichi knew that he wouldn’t in a million  _ years  _ be able to reciprocate, or even so much as dream of doing so without waking up having heart palpitations, but it felt  _ so  _ nice to hear. Not that he actually knew Momota’s given name, even if he had the strength to return the gesture, but that was a secret he would keep, for the moment. “Be bad if you got sick, y’know? Right after summer vacation and all.”

“Right, yeah,” Shuichi found himself smiling, Momota’s enthusiasm worming its way into his heart and spreading warmth through him that was completely unrelated to the jacket. (Though the jacket certainly  _ helped.)  _ He figured it was best to talk about something else before he said something stupid and weird and made Momota regret his kindness. “Uhm, so, are you waiting to get picked up by somebody?”

“Yeah, my gramps is driving by to pick me up. We’re goin’ out to dinner tonight. Some kinda celebration they won’t tell me about,” Momota shrugged, and Shuichi wondered,  _ does he live with his grandparents?  _ but he didn’t ask the question aloud. It felt personal in a way that he didn’t want to test, and beyond that Momota’s body language wasn’t exactly inviting questioning. He wasn’t tense per se but when he said the word _ gramps  _ his tone was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it or not. Shuichi hummed.

“It’s probably good that you already had plans to be picked up, on a day like today,” Shuichi said lightly, and Momota shot him another smile-- this one smaller but somehow much brighter than the other’s he’d seen thus far. Perhaps because he chose to let the subject of Momota’s grandparents rest. Or maybe there was just something in his tone. “It’s the first real rain of the season.”   
  


“You love to see it,” Momota sighed. He seemed almost wistful. “I always feel so tense when it doesn’t rain for a while. Like, don’t get me wrong, I love the sun and all, but the rain, it like… washes everything away. All the bad stuff that hangs around when things stagnate for a while. Rain is like a fresh start, y’know? Leaves everything new and clean.” He smiled up at the sky this time, and Shuichi was close enough to see water droplets catching in his thick eyelashes, making their way down his cheeks as though they were tears when he blinked. “It’s a great feeling. And the streets smell like rain rather than smog, which is pretty cool.”

“Mm,” Shuichi switched his book bag from one hand to the other, clasping his hands together on the handle. They were both wet, and cold, but he hardly noticed that, distracted as he was by Momota’s profile. “I agree. The rain is cleansing. And it’s… nice, too, to just let the water wash over you. Every once in a while. Regardless of any possible repercussions.” He didn’t really mean to say that. Standing outside in the rain and letting the water pour over him like some kind of low-budget shower was more of a depression thing than much else, and that was  _ not  _ the kind of topic he wanted to broach with a virtual stranger.

Momota’s expression wasn’t prying, though, or even remotely uncomfortable. It was just slightly… inquisitive. His eyebrows were quirked, and the way his gaze shifted it was as though he was seeing Shuichi for real for the first time. There was a brief silence, wherein Shuichi thought that perhaps Momota was going to say something, and say it quietly, but then a white car pulled up to the curb, an old model, and Momota turned to it, a smile appearing on his face automatically.

There was an older man behind the wheel with a striking profile that could only belong to Momota’s grandfather. He had kind eyes.

“That’s me,” Momota said, and he was already making his way towards the car, which to Shuichi didn’t make a lot of sense; his hand flew to the button that Momota fastened before, wet finger slipping over the smooth, cool metal.

“Uhm, Momota-kun, your coat--?” he began, uncertainty making his voice lilt almost embarrassingly. As earlier, Momota waved him off, shooting a playful smile over his shoulder as he tucked his fingers under the door handle.

“You can borrow it for a while. You’re waiting to get picked up too, right? Shouldn’t be standing out here in the cold,” he shrugged, as though this was not a big deal, when in fact, it really was. “I’ll probably see you in the halls or something on Monday, you can give it back to me then.” Before Shuichi could reply, protest, actually, Momota added, “You can call me Kaito, man. No need to be so formal.”

His grin made it impossible for Shuichi to argue. He opened and closed his mouth, aware that he looked like an utter moron.

“See you around,” he did a two-fingered salute before getting into his grandfather’s car, and Shuichi watched, swallowing hard, as it pulled off and turned around the block.

Kaito… Momota. It was a good, warm name. Confident though, like its owner. Shuichi liked it a lot.

(He washed Kaito’s jacket before he returned it to him on Monday. He tried his best to leave it in the condition that he received it in, as that was the courteous thing to do, but he couldn’t resist scrawling his phone number and name on a scrap of notebook paper and sliding it into the pocket, too. Kaito’s text came in that evening, and Shuichi skipped out on his homework all night in favour of texting him. There were worse ways to waste time.)


End file.
